Leo McCoy here, still resting on my laurels because I accomplished my life’s work in the 1990s when I delivered a sandwich to that blonde God-man, James Van Der Beek. To flip the script of that sexy man’s theme song, I don’t have to wait for my life to be over, because I found out what the purpose of my life will be – to sit around and be happy that I met James until the end of my days.

FYI I used the word “sexy” in a manly way. I appreciate JVDB’s physique and want to make mine look like his but you know, that’s not gay or nothing.

Look, 3.5 yahoos, the topic du jour of this column is this – I just tried seven layer Mexican dip for the very first time and it was a bittersweet experience. Sweet because it tasted so good. Bitter because my ass exploded like the cannons in the “1812 Overture.”

I like sour cream. I like shredded cheese. I like salsa. I do not like guacamole or jalapenos so I never tried this dip before because I didn’t want to eat something I didn’t like but as it just so happened, there was some in my fridge. I don’t know how it got there. I think my old frenemy BQB left it there because he felt sorry for my supposed unemployment issues. All I can say is I don’t need your charity, nerd boy.

So I tried it. And I enjoyed it. First you get the sour cream and cheese and its like a nice texture, kinda chewy. Then you get the salsa and its hot. And honestly, I find guacamole to usually suck but when you mix it with the other stuff it’s pretty good.

Anyhow, an hour goes by. I’m content. I’m glad I tried something new, not nearly as glad as I was on that fateful day when I met the Beek from the Creek, but still, pretty happy nonetheless because I was dreaming of all the dip I’d eat.

Long story short, my ass started blowing up like a 2 dollar whore’s phone on check cashing day. Whoa nelly. Such sounds. Such smells. Was it worth it? I don’t know. It was pretty tasty and I do live alone so I suppose so.

Still, I can’t help but think that Bookshelf Q. Battler put that delicious dish into my fridge just to assault my colon. The nerve. Besides that time I tried to feed him to zombies, what did I ever do to him?

What’s your favorite James Van Der Beek memory, 3.5 readers? Discuss in a purely aesthetical, non-gay way in the comments.

And now, from Bookshelf Q. Battler Headquarters in Fabulous East Randomtown, the Astounding Nerdstradamus shares his confounding prognostications of the future of nerd kind…

Come forth, 3.5 readers and bask in my all seeing glory for I, the Astounding Nerdstradamus, shall open your eyes so that you might peer deep into the future of nerd-dom:

Acclaimed film director Quentin Tarantino, who gained critical acclaim with his 1990s gangster flicks (“Pulp Fiction” and “Reservoir Dogs”) which featured snappy, witty, back and forth dialogue, shall wow sci-fi nerds with a foray into a “Star Trek” film. It will be three hours long, two hours of which will be spent on Capt. Kirk asking Mr. Spock how many dicks Madonna might have been referring to when she sang the 1980s pop hit, “Like a Version.” Then, some klingons will break in, spew multiple 1970s references and then the Enterprise will travel through time and crash into a meeting of Nazis and 1800s slave masters, both groups having also come together to plot dastardly deeds via space travel. The final fifteen minutes will be an obscenity laden blood bath. You’ll wish Quentin had done better, but you’ll hand it to him that he made two awesome movies in the 1990s (three if you count “Jackie Brown” though many don’t although they really should) and now he just gets to have a lot of fun.

Internet sensation Grumpy Cat will be accused of sexually molesting a hamster and will be pilloried by the #metoo movement. The hamster will appear on multiple talk shows to discuss the harrowing ordeal that grumpy feline put him through.

China will continue to clone adorable monkeys. This is how “The Planet of the Apes” begins. Stockpile bananas now, for they will prove to be valuable currency later. Also, they’re a good source of potassium, so really, it’s just common sense.

Bill and Hillary Clinton will appear on a special edition of the Maury Povich show. They will drop their pants and reveal that Bill had the vagina all along, while Hillary was packing the penis. Further, Maury will reveal lab tests indicating that Hillary is Chelsea’s father.

Hobos will become the next sex symbols. Dousing yourself with trash and inviting your date to dine on a can of beans that you light up by rubbing the business end of a 99-cent cigarette lighter of the bottom of the can will be the one and only way to get laid.

Bit coin will be popular until it is replace with X-coin. X-coin will be replaced with Giga coin. Giga coin will collapse, taking the dollar and even gold with it. For the first time ever, gold will be worth zero. Farts will become the only acceptable form of currency. To pay for anything, one will be required to fart in a merchant’s specially designed fart storage receptacle. Fat, gassy people will finally have their chance to be millionaires. Alas, 99 percent of the world’s fart wealth shall reside in the colons of the wealthiest 1 percent of refried bean can owners.

Bookshelf Q. Battler’s blog will be studied in a 2175 writing seminar entitled, “How to Not Blog.”

YOUR PREDICTIONS:

Share your predictions of the nerdy future in the comments below. Alas, if you do, I prognosticate that you will be alone with nothing but a rubber woman and extreme sadness every Saturday night for the next three years. You will then buy a house plant and your abode won’t feel so lonely.

It’s been awhile since I’ve stopped by to say hello to you, 3.5 readers and do you know why?

Because I’ve been worried. I’ve been worrying so much that I curled up into the fetal position and locked myself in my homemade, underground bunker, subsisting on a steady diet of oreo cookie filling and rain water.

Worrying about what? I was worried you’d ask.

Have you noticed lately that tipping just isn’t for waiters now? Say you go to a restaurant and stop at the bar to pick up a take-out order you’ve phoned in. You’re basically doing the establishment a favor. You aren’t taking up one of their tables. You aren’t eating up the wait staff’s time, making them fetch you drinks and food and such.

You run your credit card and the counter person gives you a receipt to sign…where there’s a line for a tip! This worries me. What should I do? I mean, better question, what did the counter person do? He just handed me a box of food. Really, I’m the one doing all the work here. I’m picking up the food. I’m going to take it home and serve myself. I’m going to pour my own drink like a caveman. Am I really expected to tip a counter person just for handing me a box?

I’m so worried. Do I tip just to be courteous? I like the food at this place so if I don’t tip I worry they might spit in my food. But if I tip the counter staff, will the waiters be mad? The waiters are doing more than the guy at the counter so maybe the next time I decide to go in and sit down for a meal, the waiter might rub his junk all over my potatoes au gratin. Talk about extra cheese.

I’m very worried, 3.5 readers. Very worried indeed. I’m also worried about Bookshelf Q. Battler. Why does he keep this dumb blog going? No one reads it. I don’t think even the 3.5 readers read it. Do you 3.5 readers really read it? I’m so worried you don’t and when BQB finds out he actually has 0 readers he will be very sad.

Do you tip counter staff for a take out order? Besides that, what else are you worried about?